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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129914">Mix-up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl'>masongirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spots to kiss [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Band of Brothers (TV 2001)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Luggage, M/M, Misunderstandings, Photographs, Secret Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:21:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>804</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George knew something was wrong as soon as he opened his suitcase.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, George Luz/Joseph Toye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spots to kiss [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mix-up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A silly little drabble written for a Tumblr request :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as George opened his suitcase, he knew something was wrong. In retrospect, he should have suspected it when Joe accused him of buying the whole souvenir market, but he was busy pawing at Joe’s chest to get his welcome home kiss, and he didn’t notice. Shit, he should have realised how heavy his luggage was. He could barely drag it off the baggage carousel at the airport. Why didn’t he think of this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe!” He yells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Joe walks back into the bedroom and comes to stand next to George’s slumped body. He looks downright delicious in his blue shorts and the old band shirt they bought at a concert ages ago. It's so unfair that George can't ignore this godforsaken suitcase and make out with him instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps his hands around Joe's good leg, presses his face to Joe’s skin and pretends he’s crying in defeat. “I took someone else’s luggage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe bursts into laughter, one hand on his thigh and the other patting George's head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have any sympathy for me?” George whines. When Joe doesn’t stop chortling, he opens his mouth wide and bites Joe’s thigh just above the knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow, Jesus Christ.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe's fingers slip into his hair and tug in warning, but George has already relaxed his teeth. He leans back just enough to see the faint indents he left behind. It was just a playful bite, but he presses an apologetic kiss to the mark nevertheless, kissing a short path down to Joe's knee. He would much rather keep tracing Joe's skin with his lips than deal with the suitcase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looks up, Joe rolls his eyes and takes two steps back to sit on the bed. "Did you check the front pocket?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nods. "Nothing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Open it, then."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want to." George mutters, because he caught a glimpse of its contents just a minute ago and he's not ready to handle this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"George." Joe stares at him, and he returns it with plaintive, pleading puppy eyes, but they don't work. Sighing, he flips the suitcase open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's no note. Nothing to give away the identity of this mysterious bag's owner, but more than enough to hint at his occupation. Inside, there's a massive metal box filled with gold - jewellery, coins, pens - all in separate plastic bags. Squeezed in next to the box, there's a towel with the name of a hotel embroidered on it, and, on a stack of neatly folded white shirts, a ten-inch tactical knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Serial killer?” George wonders aloud, half-serious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joe coughs a laugh. “Or hitman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than touching anything else with bare hands, George grabs a pair of kitchen gloves, for lack of a better option, and tries to look for a phone number that way. He's not an idiot - he won't leave fingerprints on the stuff of a potential criminal. Who knows where all that gold came from? When he feels around under the shirts, his hand bumps into something rectangular and hard. He pulls it out, hoping it's a folder with the guy's name on it, but it turns out to be a book. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Digital Forensics. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fun read." George mutters and goes to put it back. He's a klutz though, and his gloves are slippery - he drops it, and a photograph falls out from between the fluttering pages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lip?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He and Joe exclaim at once in utter bewilderment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck?" George picks it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's their friend, no doubt. He's standing on the porch of an old house, perhaps his mother's place in Huntington, and there's a guy beside him, smiling cheerfully at the camera. His arms are wrapped around Lip's waist in a tight embrace. When George looks at the back of the picture, he finds a short message in Lip's handwriting. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good luck in Virginia, darling. C</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"You gotta be kidding me." Joe says, standing again. He leans over George's head to look at the words more closely. "Virginia?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before they could make heads or tails of it, someone rings the doorbell. To save Joe the extra walk, George jumps up to get it, but he regrets it the moment he looks through the peephole. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"Who is it?" Joe calls out from the bedroom, then follows George to the door when he doesn't get an answer. The bell rings again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"It's the guy." </span>
  </em>
  <span>George whispers, clutching at Joe's arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"How the hell did he find us?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>Joe whispers back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man loses his patience. "FBI, open the door!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice startles George into motion, and he swings the door open to find a pissed-off, exhausted FBI agent on the doorstep. The guy rubs at the dark circles under his eyes and flashes his badge at George for a half-hearted second. There's a black suitcase behind him. "George Luz?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>~End~</em>
</p>
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